


The Problem with Kindly Interventions

by Quinara



Series: Dawn in Cambridge [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Asexuality, Gen, inverting tropes, season: post-series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-16
Updated: 2011-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-20 11:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinara/pseuds/Quinara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawn and Andrew are forced to share a bed.  It... Is what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Kindly Interventions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calvinahobbes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/gifts).



> Written as part of asexual_fandom's Comment Fic Fest for calvinahobbes, who prompted: _'Confined Space' - Let's subvert some tropes already! What happens when the natural conclusion, at least for one party, to huddling for warmth/ sharing a bed/ being stuck in an elevator ISN'T sex?_

Doing the sisterly thing was a pain in the ass sometimes, just as it was when Dawn called Buffy to tell her about her and Andrew's train trip (out of Rome and around the south - it was gonna be awesome). "...and it shouldn't be too expensive, because we'll be sharing -"

"Huh?" Buffy interrupted, sounding like she was putting on her Legal Guardian Stetson. "You're sharing a room? But..."

"Well, yeah," Dawn replied, rolling her eyes as the frown came down the phone line. "We're thinking most places are gonna be guesthouses rather than hostels, and in the end it just seems kind of safer, 'cause neither of us are fluent yet, so there'll be two of us to guard our stuff; and as much as I wanna be Modern Together Woman, I think having a guy around is just gonna mean using less of page one-twenty in the phrase book. And, anyway, we figure if we say we're religious it'll be way easy to get twin beds..."

"Are you sure, though, Dawnie?" Oh no, bringing out the 'Dawnie' was so not allowed. "I mean, he's a couple years older than you and..."

"Buffy, are you seriously gonna try and pull the 'guys and gals can't be friends' thing on me?" Dawn scoffed, "Hello? You and Xander?"

There was a frustrated kind of noise, which could have been static or could have been Buffy pretending to be Marge Simpson; Dawn wasn't sure. It was followed by, "But Xander and I have never gone travelling alone. And I know you're out of high school, but Mom wouldn't have liked it, and I... I'm just not sure it's a good idea."

Dawn sighed, sitting back on her sofa and looking over to the empty fireplace of the slayers' apartment. She had to keep a rational hold on this conversation, because no way was she lying to Buffy about what she was doing for three weeks - that had got old enough. "Yeah," she agreed carefully, "but Xander was totally into you."

"What?" Ha; now someone was _defensive_. "That was years ago - and not the point and..." Oh yeah, Buffy seriously had no clue if that was over yet; score one for Team Dawn.

"Look, Buffy, you're worried it's going to get weird, because if you and Xander had gone travelling at my age it would have gotten weird. But me and Andrew are not gonna get weird." Preferably she would have left it there, but Dawn had no interest in outing Andrew to anyone who asked, especially when they'd probably still have their opinions anyway. And so she added, "Besides, if it does? You _know_ I could hand his ass to him on a plate. I'm not like you, Buffy; I don't have to be scared of breaking bones..."

* * *

Funnily enough (or not), it wasn't weird. Although, at one point it did get annoying.

It was in the second week of their trip when they stumbled off the Circumvesuviana and trudged through the evening to their B&B Andrew was still obsessively taking photos, having bought a memory card at least a couple of powers too big, but his suitcase had three pairs of her shoes in and he hadn't yet made her take them back, so she wasn't complaining. She pulled out all the lines they'd been using, peppering them with a couple of touches of dialect, just for flavour and to see how their host took it, and was generally looking forward to a long shower.

However. "Oh yes, I _understand_..." the cuddly-looking host-woman effervesced as she got down their key, lapsing into English Dawn wasn't quite sure why. "You and your boyfriend want a _twin_..." Then she bustled up the little house's staircase, somehow managing to avoid all the pictures of grandchildren(?) Dawn found herself knocking into.

"She did understand, right?" Andrew asked quietly behind her, mostly covering with the thumps of his suitcase on the stairs.

Not entirely sure, Dawn glanced back to his anxious face and shrugged.

"Allora!" the woman said when they'd rounded a corner on the landing and found themselves in front of a little door saying '7', sloping with the ceiling. "A _twin room_ , as your parents' wishes." She said it with a wink, and practically a couple of nudges as well.

Dawn almost groaned. "No," she tried to protest as the woman shoved the key in her hand, "we really want a twin room! Really!"

"Sì, sì, sì!" came the woman's laughing reply as she bustled past them. "A twin!"

Resisting the urge to bang her head on the door as they went in, Dawn unlocked the room - which, yep, contained what was most definitely a double bed. And, on top of that, the room was _tiny_ , full of cushions when it wasn't full of bed, even with the ceiling fan, whirring sarcastically above them.

"Wow," Andrew said as she slumped on the (nonetheless) comfy mattress. He started poking at the cushions. "She actually... Huh." Pausing, he seemed to realise something. "Now that's someone who needs more Trek porn in their life."

"Totally," Dawn agreed, kicking her shoes off and curling into the foot of the bed. Maybe she'd shower later; just rest her head here first.

Dragging his suitcase all the way inside, Andrew shut the door and got over it, starting to ramble, "Hey, did I tell you about the great fic I read where Spock ran a café in wartime England? I don't know if all the facts were right, but Kirk couldn't deal with the ration books and he was all, 'ha ha, rations; this is perfect for me, as I am..."

It was quite soothing, really, so she wasn't surprised when she fell asleep.

 

"Hey, Dawn," Andrew woke her up later, nudging her shoulder and dressed in long stripy pyjamas. "I want to get into bed now."

Mumbling something that may or may not have been coherent, Dawn got up, found her own pyjamas (late Autumn meant she got to pull out the ones with cow print; double score) and used the en-suite that was at least what they had reserved. She came back to find Andrew tucked up in the far side of the bed, so crawled in the near side as she flicked off the light. "Excavations tomorrow?" she asked.

"Sure," Andrew replied, wriggling to get comfy but eventually settling.

Her last thought before she went to sleep was that Buffy had always complained about her kicking in her sleep. She hoped she didn't do that anymore; that would be way embarrassing.


End file.
